


a gold needle in the meat

by malkinisms (hannibalisms)



Category: Norse Mythology, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalisms/pseuds/malkinisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with Loki, Odin decides, is simply that he was given far too much leeway as a youngster.  Where Thor was punished if he set a toe out of line, for Loki it was more of a general consensus that, as the second and younger child he would be more prone to act out and it should just be ignored, because he would grow out of it.  He clearly, however, did not, hence the current situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a gold needle in the meat

**Author's Note:**

> for [darling luca](http://suvetar.tumblr.com) on tumblr.
> 
> also [here on tumblr](http://hannibalisms.tumblr.com/post/49949044119/a-gold-needle-in-the-meat).
> 
> tw: daddy kink, spanking, general naughtniness
> 
> fact: loki and odin are both aware of loki’s true origins. this is a blending of myth and MCU.

The problem with Loki, Odin decides, is simply that he was given far too much leeway as a youngster.

Where Thor was punished if he set a toe out of line, for Loki it was more of a general consensus that, as the second and younger child he would be more prone to act out and it should just be ignored, because he would grow out of it.

He _clearly,_ however, did _not_ , hence the current situation.

The sewing of his mouth has done nothing to cool Odin's ire; after all, the least amount of time spent with the _dvergr_ is best in his opinion.

Loki lies prone on the low daybed in his chambers as he is not allowed to return to his own, for the chance that he would be able to skirt his punishment is astronomical.  He has more magic that Odin, though the All Father would never admit it.

(He knows that Heimdall and Loki are both aware that Loki's magic outstrips him.)

Loki glowers at his approach, golden threads gleaming in the low light, and Odin remembers saving him as a child, blue and red and frosted; he was young himself, though eons after that moment it has dulled his sense of time and place.

Where he has aged, Loki has not, perhaps because Loki has willed it so.  Odin only has a scant few centuries on him, and Thor is a few decades older than Loki.  The reminder warms him through and through, most unlike a father.

Not his father, though, and Loki knows it, despises the revelation.

He sits next to Loki, who glares at him through a film of tears and he knows that he has been the only one to see Loki in this form in all their long years together, wasted and wounded and hurt.

Thor has, but not in the same way.

"If you were to apologize, I would cut the threads that cage you," he tells Loki.

Loki curls inward, guarding his mouth with his hand.  He says nothing.

Odin sighs, carding a hand through Loki's hair and he is not surprised when Loki presses up into the hand, always starved for attention, for affection.

"Oh, my child, will you recant what you have said?"

Loki's fingers clench around the fabric of his shirt, twisting and pulling for a long moment before he nods tersely, as though the mere admission of his guilt pains him.

The blade that Odin uses to cut the thread is slim and sharp and draws no more blood than what has already been spilled.

Loki's mouth is swollen and lush, red where the threads rubbed the skin raw.  The holes from the needle are closing quickly and Loki lets him trace over the wounds as they fade, eyes shuttered and dark.

"Will you apologize for ruining what could have been a joyous situation?"

"I am sorry for ruining the gifting of Thor's hammer."

"To whom are you sorry?"

Loki doesn't answer, chewing on the words before he looses them. "To Thor."

"'To Thor', what?"

Loki flushes and stalls for a few moments before the silence grows tense and thick, and he blurts, "To Thor, atta."

"Are you not sorry to me, for all the planning that went into the celebration?"

"Yes, atta, I am sorry."

Odin can feel the heat of Loki as though he is a living flame or the harshest cold, and one look at Loki's face tells him that he is willing, that he is _wanting_.

"There must still be punishment."

The shiver that traces Loki's frame is not from cold or fear but desire, and Odin has long wished for that once more, but Loki was reluctant to continue their games once he was given Sigyn as a wife (but, for her part, she does not care a whit to what Loki gets up to so long as he returns to her and gives her children).

"I understand, atta.  I am sorry for the result, but not for my actions."

Odin takes his chin and Loki's eyes dart around the room, trying to flit away from his single eye, the all-seeing eye, but he cannot.  "Then there must be punishment, my son."

Loki quakes and it rushes to his blood, power and fire and remembrances of eons passed - thousands of them as this moment - and he knows that this is at Loki's whim and always had been.

"I shan't do it again, atta, I promise," Loki says, eyes downcast, and Odin knows it is both play and not; he will not use this ploy again, but he will cause trouble, as is his eternal cause.

"I know that you will not, but a father needs to discipline his son to make sure that the lesson sticks."

"I won't, atta, I swear that I won't, please, forgive me."

"I have already forgiven you, son, but don't you want to be good?"

Loki has not ever been good, not in Odin's long memory, but the prospect makes him preen and glow, stretch up from where he's slunk down on the day bed to throw his arms 'round Odin's neck.

"Yes, atta, I do so want to be a good son."

"Then you must accept the punishment."

Loki nods and rises and Odin takes the moment to look at the man that was once a boy but is still his boy, and the thought swells his heart and makes his pulse beat beneath the heavy cowl of his robes.

Loki knows what makes Odin tick, no matter that Odin has long wished that he  _didn't_ , but he does all the same.

Loki has known what curls within him from the time that Loki was old enough to understand, to really grasp what it was that Odin wanted from him - what he  _needed_ , perhaps, though Odin is loathe to admit it aloud.

Loki strips off his long tunic, the only thing that the  _dvergr_ had promitted him to keep on his person.  His skin is blemished with bruises, some deep purple and others bleeding to yellow and green.  Odin knows that in normal circumstances Loki would have healed them, but he also knows that Loki doesn't mind the flash of pain that they bring.

He's still skinny, still underfed for all the years that Odin and Frigga have fed him and kept him whole, even when Odin wanted to cast him out for all of his deeds.  His ribs press against his skin, his hip bones sharp and defined and Odin knows that the delicate bones of his hands and feet are the same.

Loki slips to his knees and rests his temple against Odin's knee and allows Odin to card a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips almost involuntarily.

"Are you sorry, my son?"

"Yes, atta, yes," Loki says, nearly a whisper, and relaxes enough that Odin knows he wants this, but for Loki relaxation is never true; it is a guise, but Odin knows how to break those walls down.

"I must still punish you, my son," Odin says, and Loki nods into the crook of his knee, breath warm through the maille and fabric.

"Yes, atta," Loki manages, and allows Odin to pull him up - for if Loki did not want it, he would have remained right where he was - and splay him across his lap, stomach pressed to his thighs and hips arched up.

Loki has a splattering of freckles across his shoulders, and Odin rests one hand on them as he thinks.

"How many strikes do you think you deserve, my child?"

Loki squirms from his position, and Odin knows that the question makes him uncomfortable; he prefers to let Odin set the pace and take control, for he so tightly controls the rest of his life that this provides  _escape_.

But Odin likes to press his advantage, work to make Loki admit what is happening, take part completely in this play of theirs.

"Ten, atta?"

"Only ten, for all the trouble that you've caused me? Causing me disgrace, working trickery against the man you call brother, make me allow the  _dvergr_ into Asgard?"

"I don't  _know_ , atta," he says, and his uncertainty is genuine in this moment.  Loki has never known what it means to really be punished, and though that day may come, it is not here.  He does not, or cannot, fathom what his punishments should be.

Odin can feel the shiver of Loki's muscles under his palms, quaking with the unknown, and he soothes them as best as he is able.

"What of twenty, my child? Five for each infraction: five for tormenting the  _dvergr_ , five for changing Thor's hammer, five for making me allow the  _dvergr_ into Asgard, five for ruining this occasion?"

"Yes, atta," and his answer comes on a breath, thin and pleased in only a way that Loki could be.

"I shall not hold back," Odin responds, and Loki nods from his position, forehead rubbing against the fabric of the daybed.

He doesn't give any warning when he starts, because Loki warrants none.  Though he has told Loki he will not hold back the force of the strikes, he does so; his full strength would break a lesser god.  Loki is strong, stronger than most, but that does not mean that Odin wishes to break him.

Loki lets out a yelp at the first strike, not from pain but from surprise.  It does not hurt - not yet.  He makes noises from surprise through the first five strikes, squirming where Odin pauses and draws it out.

The sixth sees a glancing blow across the crease of his thighs, and Loki lets out a noise between pain and pleasure, pink blooming across the white of his skin.  It's a beautiful contrast.

The seventh lands in the same spot and Loki stills for a moment after the impact, back smoothing into more of a concave arch, shoulders straining and muscles tightening.

"Oh," Loki breathes, fingers pressing into the daybed and Odin's thigh, and Odin smiles.

He does not keep count after that.

The strikes change in where they land, simply on Odin's whims, and Loki's ass and thighs are cherry red, hot to the touch, beautiful.  He pauses and Loki's  _gasping_ , moving and squirming down into his lap and up and away from it all the same.

"Atta, atta," leaves his mouth, a mantra, breathless and choked and if Loki were not so proud, he would cry.

He has only done that twice, in Odin's memory, and his memory is grand.

"You have done so well, my boy, so well," Odin tells him, "you've been so  _good_."

Loki lets out a low cry, fingers biting into the fabric, into Odin, and he's so lost to pleasure and pain and Odin's words that the worlds that leave his mouth do not even  _phase_ him.

"Please, atta,  _please_ , I promise I'll be good, I'll be your good boy, father,  _please_ ," and his voice is wrecked and torn and Odin cannot deny him, has hardly ever been  _able_ to deny Loki.

"You have been good, Loki, I agree," Odin tells him, and tugs Loki up and Loki lets him rearrange him, sitting on Odin's lap like a son  _would_ and Odin knows the picture they present - the second not-son on his not-father's lap, thighs and ass bright red and his cock weeping.

Loki sinks back into him, trying to avoid putting too much pressure on the welts, but there's nothing for it, and he gives up and puts his full weight down.

That's one of the unspoken rules; Loki cannot use his magic to heal himself, not until they're done.  It was Loki who created the rule.

"You've been good, taken your punishment, but do you understand your wrongs?"

"Yes, atta, I understand, I shouldn't have - shouldn't - ruined all the plans, atta  _I know_ ," and tosses his head back on Odin's shoulder, hands going to grip the fabric of Odin's robes, scrabbling at the maille underneath it.

"Good," Odin tells him, "then you know your wrongs, and you've been punished and  _taken_ that punishment, and so you shall be rewarded for being a  _good boy_."

Odin reaches forward and takes Loki's cock in hand, and Loki's thighs tense and he raises up on his toes, hips canted out an up, nonsense words spilling from his lips.  The only common word is  _atta, atta_ , over and over and mixed up with everything else.

It makes Odin  _want him_ , more than he has in the past, loving this man, the child that he raised and let go and allowed to grow at his own pace - the child that has become a beautiful  _monster_ , one that Odin would never give up.

He loves Thor, but Thor is a child of his loins; Loki is not, and Loki knows it, and this pleases them both.  Odin has never bade him to keep it secret, for it is his strength and his magic that make him as he is, and Odin would not have him any other way.

Head thrown back, body arched and straining, Loki comes, almost violent in it, beautiful and powerful.  The cords in his neck stand out, mouth wide and eyes squeezed shut, and Odin revels in the passion here, the passion only seen by a few - Sigyn, of course, and perhaps Angrboða, but he does not know of any other that has seen Loki bruised, bloody, and beautiful.

Loki falls back, hands no longer clenched and body supine in Odin's lap.  It will not last; it never does.

For a few moments, Loki remains relaxed, breathing softly, eyes closed and muscles soft.

Then he straightens and looks back at Odin, though his face is still open and unshuttered.  They share a look, and Loki is no longer afraid to look him full in the face: the moment is gone.

"I regret ruining your plans, but I do not regret putting the  _dvergr_ in their place," Loki says, voice hoarse.  "They are not worthy of your favor."

"No," Odin answers, moving to grip Loki's hips, thumbs pressing in the divots in his back where his bones show, "but you did wager against them."

Loki bows his head in acquiesce, and grips Odin's hand for a moment before pulling away and standing, limping over to Odin's wardrobe and pulling a nondescript robe on over the red of his skin, over the bruises he has left.

Odin knows that Loki will keep them for a day or so, until he grows tired of them.

Odin watches him but makes no move to touch him; their time is over, and it will be some time before it happens again.

Loki ties the robe and steps toward Odin, and once he gets to the daybed he leans forward and presses a kiss to Odin's cheek, then the eyepatch, and then his lips, letting his hands drift up to trace over his cheekbones before pulling away.

"May I return to my chambers?"

"Of course, Loki."

"Thank you."

He turns and walks to the door, but pauses before opening.

"I have mischief brewing within me, atta, that I suppose you will have to attend to later."  He smiles, wicked, and leaves the room in a cant of his hips.

Odin leans back.  Yes, with Loki, there will always be mischief done which he will have to fix, and Loki's punishment to attend to.


End file.
